


thy kingdom come

by bonibaru



Series: Fear no Evil [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Plot, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Magnus Bane, Sequel, Spoilery other characters, seriously jace stop touching stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-24
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-06 10:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12815397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonibaru/pseuds/bonibaru
Summary: An unknown demon is on the loose, with its sights set on Magnus Bane. But why? Who is targeting Magnus? Can Alec stop them before it's too late?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to "for thou art with me".

Alec is tired. The sodden ground under his feet makes sloppy, sucking noises, threatening to pull the useless boots off of his wet feet with every step he takes. Jace plods along next to him, head down against the drizzling rain, mud caked to his knees and equally soaked to the skin.  They’re not far from the planned rendezvous point, but every step makes the misery in Alec’s gut grow sharper. He stifles the urge to turn around and run back to the empty caverns they’d been searching for the past hour; to stand at the mouth of that unflinching darkness and scream over and over until his throat is raw and his voice broken.

Alec doesn’t turn back because he knows all he will hear in return is the sound of his own voice echoing back at him. If there had been anything to find he and Jace would have found it. Isabelle and Clary reported an equally dead end on their side. They are all walking away from nothing, no further along in this mystery than when they started.

Not turning back is easy.

Not screaming anyway … that’s harder.

Jace slips but catches himself, one hand sinking into the muck before he pitches face first into the side of the hill they’re climbing. Jace swears loudly while Alec grimaces in sympathy. Clary will portal them back to the Institute where hot showers and dry boots await. A hot drink and a hot meal will help Alec temporarily avoid thinking about the implications of their latest failure. Their search can start again tomorrow, looking always farther, always deeper, for some trace of what Alec has lost. What they have all lost.

“Almost there.” Jace shakes the cold glop off his hand, an undertone of weariness in his voice. Alec isn’t sure how much of that is from Jace himself versus how much Jace is picking up on Alec’s feelings through their _parabatai_ bond. Alec struggles daily not to get trapped in an ever flowing spiral of panic and despair, occasionally undercut by impotent rage. The feeling he struggles the most desperately to hold on to is hope. Hope that their next mission will be successful, even if only partially; hope that some kind of progress will make the repeated failures seem somehow worth the effort. Hope that the rumors they’ve been chasing for three months will stop being rumors and turn into real, solid leads.

Jace is being as supportive as he can be, which mostly takes the form of extra workload and covering when Alec is chasing down yet another dead end. Unfortunately _parabatai_ were never intended to solve each other’s life problems; the angelic bond born to cement a pair’s willingness to die for each other in battle becomes ironically useless when it comes to fixing matters of the heart. He knows Jace wishes he could do more. Alec wishes he could, too. 

Alec scrubs a hand over his face to wipe the rainwater out of his eyes. Squinting to see through the fog and foliage, he catches the bright shock of Clary’s hair as she and Isabelle crest the top of the hill. Isabelle spots them coming up the hillside and waves her arm. Even their weariness is apparent: Clary’s shoulders droop and Isabelle's usually perfect posture radiates exhaustion. It's been draining for all of them. With each subsequent failed mission the lack of progress drags them all down, their failure and its consequences hitting them harder each time.

“You guys ready to get out of this mud pit?” Clary asks as they approach, her stele in hand already starting the motions that will open a doorway back to New York.

A grunt is the only response Alec can give. Ready is an understatement. He pushes himself forward, eager to cover the last few meters between himself and the rapidly growing portal, to leave the memory of this fruitless trip behind. But now it’s his turn to slip on the treacherously slick ground. Just before Alec faceplants in the mud Jace is there, his hand a firm and steadying pressure on Alec's elbow.

"I've got you," Jace says, as Alec regains his feet. "You okay, buddy?"

"Not really," Alec snaps, the words coming out of his mouth before his brain has time to censor them.

Jace's hand tightens on Alec's arm briefly before he lets it go, his eyes soft with understanding. "We’re not giving up," he says. “Let’s go home and get started on the next lead.”

"Yes," Alec replies, willing himself to cling to hope despite the growing mound of evidence against it. A crash of thunder echoes overhead as the rain starts to come down harder. He shakes the wet hair out of his face and straightens his shoulders. "Let's go home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eternal gratitude to M.K. York for making sure my tense changes throughout at least the first part, didn't get away from me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t like to let any detail go by unexplored, no matter how small. Not when even the tiniest of whispers could hold the key to unlock what they’ve been missing.

Maryse is waiting for Alec in his office, her expression neutral as she looks over her disheveled son. Alec realizes with a sudden start that it’s time for their bi-weekly debrief; he’d lost track of the hours passing. He gestures toward himself, sheepishly. “Hello, mother. I’d hug you, but…”

“No worries.” She smiles as Alec drops his bow and quiver onto the couch. “Did you find anything in Slovenia?”

Alec shakes his head, not bothering to ask how she knows where they’d gone. Maryse always knows; he suspects Robert does too. “Another dead end.”

Maryse nods slowly and without showing surprise, as if she’s expecting his answer - which, now that he thinks about it, is probably true. It’s been a long search and their intelligence has been getting increasingly sparse; what's still trickling in is proving less and less reliable. "Okay," she says simply. Her eyes track down to where Alec is steadily dripping muddy water onto the pristine Institute floor. "Why don't you go get cleaned up. I can get the inventory reports from Eugenia in the meantime, so let’s meet in the conference room in an hour."

Alec nods, his boots squelching unpleasantly as he turns to go. An hour is good. He'll have time to shower and change and then review his most recent correspondence before he needs to report back. Maybe Aline and her friends helping him from Alicante will have turned up something useful. Maybe he'll even get a chance to finish up the last few reports of his own he's been working on. Alec needs quiet time to focus. He doesn’t like to let any detail go by unexplored, no matter how small. Not when even the tiniest of whispers could hold the key to unlock what they’ve been missing.

"Alec, before you go?" Maryse's words are spoken quickly, in an uncharacteristically soft tone. Alec freezes in place.  He forces himself to take a slow, measured breath before turning back to look at her. As if feeling the weight of his unspoken question, Maryse meets his gaze head on, her once-guarded eyes now full of sympathy and apology.

"The Consul is here," she begins, then stops and starts again. “There are – we must –“

Alec swallows past the lump forming in his throat and puts his hand up to stop her. It's not his mother’s fault after all; she's only the messenger this time, not the orchestrator of his pain.

"We'll talk about it in an hour.” His voice is calm and steady, its tone belying the sadness Alec sees reflected in his mother’s eyes. He turns and walks out without a backward glance.

*****

"Alec?"

Isabelle calls his name when he's just a few feet from his room. Alec curses quietly under his breath - so close to the bliss of hot water and soft towels, and yet so far. He stops, still dripping on the floor. He turns to face his sister, willing his expression into blankness, wishing he wasn’t just plain _bad_ at hiding his emotions from her.

She reaches out as if to place her hand on his forearm. Alec jerks backward, crosses his arms over his chest, unwilling to accept her sympathy. "Alec," she says again, softly this time, her voice full of compassion.

Alec resists the urge to flinch away a second time as Isabelle reaches out to him again. He doesn’t pull back as she uncrosses his arms, grasps his hands to pull him close and leans in. Her damp hair is pulling haphazardly out of its braids, tossed by the wind and rain, frizzing out around her head like a dark halo. "We are all here for you in this, Alec," she assures him. "We are your family and we love you."

Alec's eyes squeeze tightly closed for a moment, still fighting to hold his face impassive. It's been so hard to keep everything together - grief, loneliness, his nagging sense of guilt. Harder still to play the part his leadership role demands, to act out the dispassionate charade that each rescue attempt requires.

He swallows and blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears which have sprung uncontrollably to his eyes. "I ... I ..."

What can he say? What should he say?

"It's alright, Alec," Isabelle says. "I just want to make sure you know that whatever the Clave dictates, whatever orders they send, you’re not in this alone now and you won’t be afterward either." She gives his hands a quick squeeze before she releases him and steps back.

Alec looks at her for a moment, still at a loss for words. He pulls in a deep breath and then releases it slowly. "I know." He gestures vaguely, stuttering clumsily. "T-thank you.”

“We will find him," Isabelle says firmly. "I’ll see you at the debriefing.”

Alec watches her go and then turns once more towards his door, finally starting to shiver from the cold damp clothes still clinging to his body. He isn’t lying to her; he does know, he knew even before the beginning of the waking nightmare that his life has become since Magnus disappeared.

His family’s support is the only thing keeping Alec’s overwhelming grief at bay.

*****

Alec thinks, as he enters the bathroom and turns on the shower, about how fast everything happened. He remembers the moment he first saw Magnus, their first kiss, the first time they’d stumbled together into Magnus’s bedroom leaving a trail of clothes behind. Alec smiles at the thoughts, peeling damp clothing away from his now-chilled skin. He’s not sure if the goosebumps rising on his arms are from the cold, or from the memory of that first time.

For each of those moments and so many moments afterward, Magnus had been the center of Alec’s world.

Stepping under the hot water, Alec remembers the panic he'd felt when he’d thought Magnus had died in Valentine’s attack. The overwhelming relief when they’d finally found each other afterward. And the agony when Magnus walked away from their relationship just weeks later. Back then, Alec had been able to channel the pain of his broken heart, focusing on saving the city from demon attack. Much like he’s focusing now on searching for Magnus, leaving no stone unturned.

Alec had felt such joy when he and Magnus were finally reunited. Now Magnus is missing, and all of his hard won happiness has been replaced by fear and concern. Alec shakes his head under the spray. He isn’t naïve enough to have believed that they would never face danger again together, but the key word had always been _together_. Alec hadn’t anticipated that Magnus could be separated from him again, this time not of his own volition; this time, maybe forever.

As the hot water cascades over his aching body, Alec breathes deeply and tries to prepare himself to hear the Clave orders spoken aloud that he's already seen in his mother's eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Four Months Ago**

Magnus Bane rubbed his aching temples. The headache plaguing him was so persistent that he’d given it a name: Jace Herondale.

His headache’s namesake had apparently never outgrown a child’s innate desire to touch things that one was explicitly told _not_ to touch. Under normal circumstances, such behavior was merely annoying. When combing through the rubble of a destroyed magic shop – no mundane toys here, but a powerful collection of mystical odds and ends – it could be alarmingly fatal.

Had Jace been poking around the overturned furniture and damaged relics by himself, Magnus might have been tempted to let the lesson take its course. But Alexander insisted on hovering protectively between Magnus and Jace, twisting and turning while trying to keep them both in his sight. Magnus smiled; Alec’s efforts were equally endearing and amusing. But Alec’s proximity to Jace meant that any magical disaster Jace’s fiddling might set off would likely engulf both Shadowhunters, not just the pesky one.

Magnus would be extremely displeased if anything bad happened to Alec, so soon after their blissful reunion. He watched, eyes narrowed, as the blonde drifted closer to a toppled display of enchanted tarot cards. The protective glamour around some of the cards had started to wear off. A few of the major arcana glanced up, eyeing Jace nervously as his hand stretched forward -

“Jace!”

“I wasn’t!” Jace snatched his hand back, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“If you get me cursed again, I will personally kill you with my bare hands,” Alec warned. He grabbed Jace by the shoulders and maneuvered him toward the center of the room, away from further temptation.

The body of the shop’s warlock owner, Ellende, lay on the carpeted floor at Magnus’s feet. Lucian Greymark knelt beside her taking photos of the scene. She lay on her back, eyes closed. Her expression seemed strangely peaceful amid the chaotic destruction of her shop. One of her shoes was still on one foot. The other shoe lay across the room at the base of a long framed mirror. The mirror itself was spider-webbed with cracks, a thin line of blood trailing down one side. A thicker trail of blood on the floor led from the base of the mirror to the body.

Magnus sighed sadly. Elle was as beautiful in death as she’d been in life, despite the dried blood matted along one side of her head. The skirt of her flowered sundress had been pulled demurely over her thighs as if she’d simply laid down to nap; her long silver hair was arranged artfully around her shoulders. Her legs had been placed together in a straight line while her arms were outstretched at her sides, angled slightly giving a “Y” shape. The position revealed the delicate webbing beneath her armpits - her warlock mark – and gave her the appearance of a pinned butterfly on display.

Luke looked up at Magnus. “Do you feel anything?”

“The residual energy is fading but still detectable.” Magnus circled around to the other side of Ellende’s body, studying the scene, feeling tentatively with his magic. “This was definitely a demonic attack. No question about it.”

“Since when do demons take the time to rearrange dead bodies?” Jace’s eyes tracked around the room, alert, watchful. “Why didn’t it tear her apart? Or just leave?”

“Maybe someone else was here.” Alec’s fingers tightened around his bow. “Maybe they moved her after the attack and ran off when they heard us coming.”

Magnus touched Alec’s arm lightly. “I’m not detecting more than one demonic energy signal, and there are no traces of any magic except Elle’s. Whoever - or whatever - was here, they’re gone now.”

Alec looked skeptical, but his grip loosened a little.

“It definitely wasn’t a human,” Magnus continued. “Or Downworlder, or Nephilim. The residual trace is demonic. Powerful. I’ve rarely come across anything that felt so –“

“Hey,” Jace interrupted, having wandered out to the edge of the worn carpet. He looked down, scuffing the floor with his toe. “There’s something here.” He crouched and lifted the edge of the rug, careful not to disturb the body atop it.

Magnus stepped closer and looked over Jace’s shoulder at a dark stain spread over the old wooden floor.

“Looks like a burn mark,” Luke said thoughtfully. He reached down to help Jace and together they pulled the carpet back a little more, but the stain kept going, further under the rug.

“Can we move her?” Jace asked. Luke shrugged. “If this was a mundane crime scene I’d say no, but we’ve already gathered all the evidence Isabelle needs, so I don’t see why not.” They looked over at Magnus who nodded in agreement. Alec carefully lifted Elle’s body and gently placed it off to the side of the room.

As Jace and Luke pulled and rolled the dusty old carpet, more of the marks were revealed. The curves and lines coalesced into a familiar shape.

“That explains why the body was dragged to this spot.” Jace gave a low whistle as they finally shoved the entire rug aside.

Alec stared at the newly exposed pentagram which covered a large section of the floor. “Someone summoned a demon here.”

Magnus frowned and knelt down, staring intently at the fading charcoal marks on the wood. “Not just any demon. Alexander,” Magnus patted the floor next to himself. “Look across it from this angle. Tell me what you see.”

Alec crouched next to Magnus and studied the pentagram intently. “There’s, like, a weird green sheen to it. Like a shimmer just above the surface.” He looked at Magnus, confusion evident in his expression. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

Magnus stood, extended a hand to Alec and pulled him to his feet. “Don’t worry, Alec. I would be much more concerned if you _had_ ever seen anyone summon - “

“ _Magnus Bane_.”  The name wasn’t so much spoken as it was screeched, a rasping, grating sound undercut by a painfully high-pitched whine. Luke grimaced, shook his head and brought his hands up to cover his ears. Jace and Alec spun toward the sound with weapons raised, instinctively moving in unison to put Luke and Magnus behind them.

Elle’s corpse had risen to its feet. Her eyes glowed a sickly green, the same color that shimmered over the pentagram where she had lain. One arm extended slowly toward them. “ _Magnus Bane_ ,” she repeated. The dried blood on her face crackled and flaked off in pieces as her mouth moved. “ _You will come_.”

“You aren’t taking him anywhere.” Jace thrust his seraph blade forward; the reanimated Warlock visibly recoiled, although she did not drop her arm or move away. Alec said nothing, but Magnus heard the soft creak of leather pulling across his shoulders as he drew the bowstring tighter.  
  
“Who are you?” Magnus demanded. “What do you want from me?”

The corpse’s face pulled into a snarl. “ _You will come!_ ” she screamed, lunging forward; her voice was inhumanly loud. Luke gasped in pain, still clutching his head, and collapsed. Magnus caught Luke by the arms just as Elle’s body dropped heavily to the ground, Alec’s runed arrow imbedded in her forehead. The green glow from both the pentagram and the corpse winked out instantly. Elle did not move again.

“Well,” Magnus groaned, his headache once again throbbing as he pulled a wincing Luke to his feet. “I guess we aren’t going to get that answer for a while.”

**Present**

Alec stands at the threshold of the command center, taking a moment to collect himself. None of the Shadowhunters moving about their daily tasks pause or even glance his way. Despite their best efforts to pretend not to notice him, an invisible weight settles over the room. Even the ordinary background noises - beeping monitors, clacking keyboards, the smooth hum of conversation - seem dampened by his presence.

By now they have all heard of the failure of his team’s latest mission and the arrival of the Consul. They know what that means just as well as Alec does.

Alec forces himself forward, crossing to the stairs. He focuses on the simple act of putting one foot in front of the other. Out of deference to their leader’s well-known preference for privacy, the other Nephilim give him a respectful berth. A path opens before him through the crowded center almost as if some invisible shield extends around his body demarcating his personal space. No one brushes against him or even passes near him. No one makes eye contact. Alec moves through the command center untouched, unacknowledged, and grateful for it.

Alec walks as slowly as possible, despite knowing that delaying his arrival only delays the inevitable. When he finally reaches the conference room everyone else is already there: Jace, Clary, Isabelle, Consul Penhallow and surprisingly, both his mother _and_ his father. But there is one more person in the room that Alec doesn’t know: a slender young woman dressed all in white, with wavy brown hair and steel-grey eyes.

Alec nods to everyone and silently takes the empty seat between Robert and Jace. He just wants to get this over with before the pit in his stomach expands and makes it impossible to speak or breathe.

“Alexander,” Consul Penhallow begins. She turns and indicates the stranger. “Allow me to introduce Theresa Gray, special envoy from the Spiral Labyrinth.”

The woman smiles. “Please, call me Tessa.”

It’s a name Alec has heard before, though they have not met until now. He quickly runs through everything he knows about Magnus’s friend Tessa: she is a Warlock, the impossible child of a Shadowhunter and a Demon; she is a shapeshifter and has no warlock mark. Alec vaguely remembers Clary mentioning in a debriefing that Tessa had been traveling between Alicante and the Labyrinth helping with the search for Magnus.

“Ms. Gray is here on behalf of the Warlock community. We will be making an announcement to the leadership of the local Downworld after this meeting, but we wanted to speak to all of you first. As you know the Clave and the Labyrinth have been collaborating for weeks in the ongoing search for the missing High Warlock, Magnus Bane.”  She turns to look at Tessa, who nods and continues where the Consul left off.

“It is the belief of both the Labyrinth and the Clave that we have exhausted all reasonable and realistic efforts to locate Magnus.” Tessa’s voice is calm, clear and musical. She makes it impossible for Alec to tune out what she is saying. “We have mutually agreed that at this point, Magnus must be –“

“No,” Clary says, starting to rise from her seat. Isabelle grabs her hand and pulls the redhead back down into her chair. “But –“

Jace presses Clary’s other hand, their eyes locking for several long seconds. Jace shakes his head gently. Alec’s hands are clasped together on the table in front of him. He looks down and studies them in silence; his awareness of the room condensing into a pinpoint focus of the swoops and whorls of his fingerprints.

Every fingerprint is unique, Izzy had once told him.  There are no two alike in the entire world. Alec has ten fingerprints that are like no one else’s. Magnus has ten fingerprints that -

“Magnus must be presumed dead.” Tessa’s words trickle down into the hollow of Alec’s chest. Her voice becomes a cacophony, a forest full of brightly colored birds all singing at once. There’s no song in Alec’s ears; there’s just noise.

The breathtaking pain he expected to feel isn’t coming, not even from hearing the words spoken aloud. Alec just feels empty. He senses anger radiating from Isabelle; disbelief and denial from Clary; compassion and sorrow from Jace. He isn’t sure what his parents feel. He rarely knows anything with certainty where they’re concerned. He can feel their eyes on him. He does not look up.

“As is our tradition, I will convene the local Warlock community to begin the process of selecting a new High Warlock. We at the Labyrinth wish to thank the Clave, and especially the New York Institute, for your assistance over the past few months.” Tessa smiles at them, but the smile is a sad one and does not reach her eyes. “Despite our lack of success, we were able to cover much more ground and follow many more leads than we could have done alone.”

“The Clave is glad to have been of service, and truly sorry for the loss,” the Consul replies gravely. “The New York Institute will return to its normal mission schedule effective immediately. Alexander.” He looks up finally at his name, surprised. “Given the uniquely close nature and the special circumstances of your, ah - your association, with Mr. Bane, the Clave has agreed to grant you the standard 30 day leave of absence for bereavement. Maryse will serve as ad interim head of the Institute until your return to full duty.”

Alec stares at the Consul in shock. Bereavement leave? The Clave only grants that in three instances: death of a _parabatai_ , death of a parent or child, or death of a spouse. For his _association_ with Magnus? It’s almost too much to process, but he manages a nod of acknowledgement. He should feel gratitude; he knows the Clave thinks they are bestowing him with an honor. He can see his mother looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t return her gaze. He wants to get out of this room so badly it feels like all the skin on his body has started crawling at once. The Clave is finally acknowledging his relationship with Magnus in some official capacity – now that they think Magnus is _dead_.

"Madame Consul, Is there absolutely nothing we can do?" Jace asks. “What if just one of our teams continues the search as a side project? We could make sure it’s managed during down time and doesn’t interfere with other business.”

"I'm afraid not," the Consul replies, shaking her head slowly. "The decision has been taken by mutual agreement of all parties; the Warlocks have the final call on this one. They have declared the search over and we must respect their jurisdiction in this matter. In fact, we must now excuse Ms. Gray, as she has Warlock business to attend and I have to give you all your new orders.”

Alec, retreating into a protective shell of numbness, only barely registers Tessa’s farewells and departure. The Consul’s voice buzzes in the background as he sits quietly, all his energy focused on keeping his emotions under control. But he snaps back to attention at a sudden outburst from Isabelle.

“You’re splitting us up?”

Isabelle is on her feet, her dark eyes snapping. Robert rises from his chair as well. “Isabelle, please. The unexpected loss of the forensic lead in Madrid was a huge blow to that Institute. They desperately need you there to train the new team.”

“You’re our best, Isabelle,” Consul Penhallow agrees. “It is only a temporary assignment.”

Isabelle whirls on her parents. “How can you send me away now? Alec _needs_ me!”

“It’s OK,” Alec says. It’s the first time since arriving that he’s spoken aloud. His voice rolls through the tension in the room like the softest thunderclap ever; everyone goes completely still.

Alec looks up at Isabelle. She looks back, her face flushed. “It’s OK, Iz. You should go. It’s important.”

Her lip quivers. “ _You’re_ important.”

Alec manages a smile. “I’ll be fine. I won’t even be here, I’ll …“

He trails off as the gut-punch realization hits him: he was about to say he’d be at Magnus’s. Doing what? Packing things in boxes? Sitting alone in the dark?

He tries to speak again, but can’t; words bubble up in his throat but he chokes on them. He pushes back his chair and runs from the room before anyone can say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From here on, things are un-beta'd. Any errors are my own.


	4. Chapter 4

**Three and a Half Months Ago**

The fire message winked into existence above his vanity table just as Magnus finished blending his brow highlights. Magnus sighed. He was expecting Alec to arrive shortly for a lunch date, their first chance to spend time together in almost a week. Alec had insisted that Magnus not go anywhere alone while the demon that killed Ellende was still at large. He was willing to humor Alec, but only to a point; he was starting to get a little stir crazy cooped up in the penthouse. It would be a nice break to get out even just for a few minutes.

_Magnus,_

_I have information about Ellende’s death._

_Please come when you can._

_\- Tristesse_

Tris’s unique connection to mundanes gave him a source of information that other Downworlders often overlooked. Tristesse owned a large Victorian-era building in Flatbush, a former bed & breakfast that now served as a safe house for mundanes who had the Sight. Such people, who could sense magic or see through the glamours that hid Shadowhunters, Downworlders and demons, often had nowhere else to go. Telling other mundanes about the things they could see, generally led to them being placed in mental institutions or prescribed drugs to quell their “hallucinations” and “delusions”. Those who were lucky might be found & helped by sympathetic Downworlders like Tris. Magnus had even sent a few Sighted mundanes to the young warlock’s care over the years.

Magnus checked the time and considered his options carefully. Alec wasn’t due to arrive for another 15 minutes and he was almost never early. Magnus could easily finish his makeup, portal out, find out what Tris knew and return home before Alec arrived. Of course he could wait and see if Alec wanted to tag along, but Tris’s home was heavily warded given the nature of his tenants. The wards were designed to dampen the use of magic and even had some impact on the efficiency of angelic runes. Tris refused to share his secrets about how exactly they worked, since protecting those with the Sight was his top priority. But they did provide excellent reassurance of an added layer of protection.

Not to mention that if there was going to be any trouble, Magnus would really rather not put Alec in jeopardy.

He decided to pop over quickly and see what Tris had found. It shouldn’t be anything he couldn’t handle on his own.

*****

Tristesse opened the door and greeted Magnus with a huge smile. “My friend, so good to see you. I didn’t expect you to come so soon.”

“Have I – interrupted something? You look a little flushed.”

“No, no, just doing some yoga. Good for the body and mind. Come in, please.”

Magnus’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He ignored it.

“I’m a bit pressed for time, I’m afraid,” he said as Tristesse led him through the open foyer, past an enormous staircase and into the home’s spacious library. “Finding Elle’s killer is important to me, so of course I came immediately. But I can’t stay long.”

“You won’t need to. Drink?” Tris moved toward a liquor cabinet built into the far wall. Magnus admired it; he’d long had an appreciation for Victorian sensibilities about design.

“I always have time for a drink.”

Tris glanced back at him, gesturing with a snifter of brandy. “Too early for the hard stuff?”

“Let’s just call it brunch and no one will be the wiser.” Magnus smiled and accepted the proffered glass.

As Tris turned back to make his own drink, Magnus’s phone vibrated again. He wished he’d turned the damned thing off. It seemed so _loud_. But as the buzzing died away, he suddenly realized just how quiet the house was. He frowned. It was actually _too_ quiet. There were usually at least a few mundane residents around even in the middle of the day. No sounds of life came from upstairs, or anywhere else for that matter. He could hear no television or radio noise, the ubiquitous electronic voices that were always present when mundanes were around. He reached out with his magic, though it took a great amount of effort to get through Tris’s warding, just to be sure.

His magic detected only one living soul in the house.

Magnus set his glass down, the brandy untouched.

“Why did you kill Ellende?”

“Ah,” Tristesse said, putting his own drink down and turning slowly to face Magnus. “I hoped it would take you a little longer to figure it out. Or that you’d drink that and knock yourself out for me, before you did.” His eyes began to glow a sickly green; his skin drained of color and took on a deathly pallor. “I’m glad you caught on so quickly though, to be honest. Maintaining a glamour in here was very draining. Plus the idea of dragging you off unconscious – well, I admit, I’m lazy, and you’re probably heavier than you look. I’d rather you come under your own power.”

“Answer my question.” Sparks snapped from Magnus’s fingertips; it took a sizeable portion of the magical strength he had just to produce the tiny effect. But he wasn’t worried, yet - if the demon could easily overpower him, it wouldn’t be resorting to other tactics like drugs.

The demon just laughed.

“It was the most entertaining way to get your attention. The poor dear merely opened a door, but someone she wasn’t expecting came through it. That someone set me loose to find you. It wasn’t personal. If it’s any consolation, she died beautifully. Such a life she had! It was a pleasure draining it out of her.”

A ball of red fire flew from Magnus’s hand, but the demon darted aside; the liquor cabinet exploded from the impact. The demon idly brushed a few splinters of glass from its shoulder as Magnus backed away. He’d ignored any brief suspicion that this might be a trap; now he mentally cursed his own impatience. He calculated how many steps it should take to cross into the foyer and out the front door. Outside the wards, he could at least fight at full strength. _About thirty,_ he thought.

“Now, Magnus, there’s no sense in us fighting. He wants you alive and unharmed. Just come with me now and save us both the trouble of all of this unnecessary violence.” The demon grinned as it moved toward him. “Not that I haven’t enjoyed killing your warlock friends, but I suppose eventually I’ll run out of them. Then what will I do? Start picking off vampires? More mundanes?” The demon cocked its head; its smile grew wider. “Handsome young Shadowhunters?”

Magnus feinted with his hand and the demon flinched, but didn’t stop its advancement. He didn’t want to get angry and rise to the demon’s bait, wasting what little power he could still muster. But if he could keep the demon talking it might give him more time to formulate a plan. He took another slow step backward, then another, counting them off in his head. He’d made it out of the library, but the demon was keeping pace right along with him. _Seventeen … sixteen …_ “Who wants me alive? Who sent you?”

The demon lunged forward. Magnus fired another bolt of magic in self-defense, then a second. The demon dodged both just as easily as before, although it was driven backward a few steps. Magnus took the opportunity to back up a little faster before the demon regained its balance and started after him again. “Tsk, Magnus. You’re just going to drain yourself doing that. These wards are a bitch, aren’t they? I had a hell of a time killing this one.” The demon smacked its lips. “Good thing all those mundane snacks were around so I could get my strength back.”

Magnus narrowed his eyes, but he didn’t strike out again. He could already feel that his magic had been significantly depleted. He needed to get outside and back to full strength if he wanted any chance to win this fight. He just kept moving backward, one slow step at a time, hands out defensively. The demon watched him, sharp eyes looking for any opening. His fingers twitched, but the magic they pulled in was already weakening. All it had to do was keep provoking him; the faster the wards drained his power, the sooner he wouldn’t be able to fight the demon off.

“Does it make you sad, these mortal lives so easily snuffed out? If it helps, this warlock was a tough little fighter. Really made me work for it. I would have liked to fight him at full power. We could have made it last so much longer. How long do you think your young Shadowhunter would last? Oh, the things I could do to him.”

_Three … two …_

Magnus tossed a final bolt of magic just before he spun and reached for the door handle. The entire door burst into flames, blocking his way. The metal handle burned him; Magnus stumbled backward, shaking his stinging hand as more flames sprang up along all the walls.

Claw-like fingers closed around Magnus’s arm. He gasped with pain as sharp nails dug into his flesh.  Magnus lashed out with his remaining magic as hard as he could. The demon fell back, snarling in surprise. Magnus twisted around the creature and sprinted down the hallway. _There has to be a back door,_ he told himself. Flames chased after him; he could feel the heat at his heels as he ran, the demon howling behind him.

 _A door,_ Magnus thought desperately _. A door, a door, a door,_ as if chanting the word could make one appear. Walls seemed to shift in front of him as if the building itself was trying to trap him. Smoke filled the twisting passageway behind him, threatening to overtake him as he ran.

A loud _BANG_ shook the air around him. Magnus skidded to a stop, ducking as large chunk of the wall blew across the hallway just in front of him. Sunlight streamed in; Magnus darted through the opening, gasping fresh air into his lungs – and slammed straight into a startled Jace. Their eyes met for a second, both confused. A high-pitched shriek came from behind; Magnus turned just in time to see Tris’s body, Alec’s arrow buried in its chest, crumple to the ground in defeat.

Alec, who stood before the gaping hole in the wall slowly lowering his bow; Alec, turning toward Magnus with anger flashing in his eyes.

Jace seized Magnus by the arm and pulled him forward. “Let’s go, Clary!”

Magnus for the first time saw the redhead, arm extended and moving; a whirling portal opened in front of her. He tried to speak but collapsed into a fit of coughing, smoke still constricting his breathing.

Alec’s hand was suddenly there, warm between Magnus’s shoulders. “Are you OK to portal?”

Magnus nodded, still coughing. “Let’s get out of here,” Alec called to the others, pushing Magnus in front of him, not quite as gently as usual.

*****

“I can’t believe you went there on your own,” Alec said. “After you promised me. _And_ you burned your hand!” He paced around the living room of Magnus’s penthouse, hands on his hips, frustration evident in his expression.

“It’s already healed.” Magnus hadn’t intended to sound petulant, but perhaps it was a normal reaction to being scolded by one’s rightfully angry boyfriend. “Alexander -“

Alec glared directly at him and the words died on Magnus’s tongue.

“You’re lucky I got here early for once. I walked in just in time to see the portal close behind you. You left the fire message on the table, so when you didn’t answer your phone I called for _backup_ which is what any _smart_ person would do when walking into an obvious _trap_. By the time we got there the whole place was on fire. We couldn’t find a way in past the wards at first. But then Clary was able to get us through at a weak spot in the back, and blow open the wall with her rune ability. You saw the rest.”

“I’m sorry,” Magnus said. “I couldn’t trust bringing you along.”

“Trust?” Alec gaped at him in surprise. “After you –“

Magnus threw his hands up. “No, not like that. Look, I’ve told you that I _trust you_ , Alexander, and that’s absolutely true. I trust that you’ll always have my back and always want to protect me. I couldn’t be sure that you wouldn’t throw yourself in front of me if something went wrong. I also couldn’t afford to be distracted worrying about you getting in harm’s way, especially with the warding at Tristesse’s. That in itself makes everything so much more complicated.”

“So you thought it was better, when there’s a demon out there we know is hunting you, to go into an anti-magic warded area _alone_?”

“Alec, I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have talked to you first. But I promise I was never in any real danger.” Magnus paused. “Although I didn’t expect the demon to torch the place.”

“Not in any real danger?” Alec stared at him, confused. “How can you say that? You’re not invincible!”

Magnus blinked, opened his mouth, then closed it and looked away. He couldn’t even defend himself properly because he understood Alec’s anger; if their positions were reversed, Magnus would feel the same.

“Wait.” Alec stepped closer, his tone softening a little. “ _Are_ you invincible?” The corner of Alec’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “Have you acquired superhero powers you forgot to tell me about?”

“No, no, definitely not. But the demon didn’t want to hurt me. At least I found out that much today.” Tentatively testing the bounds of forgiveness, Magnus reached for his boyfriend’s hand and ran his thumb over Alec’s strong wrist. “Whoever sent it wants me alive.”

“Why?”

“That, unfortunately,” Magnus sighed, “remains a mystery.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec can’t separate the idea of Magnus’s magic as a thing independent from Magnus himself. In Alec’s mind, the magic is part of Magnus and if it still exists, then Magnus must, too.

**Three Months Ago**

“I’m so glad to be out of the penthouse for the night.” Magnus raised his empty wine glass, studying the way the restaurant’s warm lighting reflected off the delicate crystal. “Not that I don’t love your cooking. But the walls were really starting to close in on me.”

As if picking up on Magnus’s cue, a sommelier appeared to fill their glasses. As the man politely drifted back from the table, Magnus picked up his glass and held it out to Alec. “To us,” he said fondly. Alec had never shown himself to be a big fan of wine in general, but Magnus was pleased when he humored Magnus’s toast by picking up his own glass. “To us,” Alec replied. The crystal rang softly as their glasses touched.

Magnus was pleased that Alec seemed to like the vintage enough to take several swallows before setting down his glass. It was indeed a very good wine, Magnus thought; full-bodied and earthy. An unusual, slightly bitter note lingered on his tongue as an aftertaste, but he couldn’t quite identify it. He made a mental note to ask the sommelier about it later.

“I’m still not sure about this whole going-out-for-date-night thing.” Alec kept looking around the room, always the solider; his right hand occasionally brushed over where his thigh holster was glamoured and out of sight. “Just because the past couple of weeks have been quiet, it doesn’t mean the demon is gone.”

Magnus gave Alec what he hoped was his most winning smile. “Darling, we’ve already defeated it twice. Not even the most stubborn of demons would be foolish enough to come back for a third try against our combined forces.”

The adorable little crinkle between his lover’s eyebrows told Magnus that Alec still wasn’t one hundred percent convinced, so he quickly changed the subject.

“What do you think of the restaurant? It’s supposed to be the trendiest new place for first dates.” Magnus leaned closer, whispering conspiratorially. “We won’t tell them this is our thirty-seventh date. Maybe if we’re charming enough, they’ll give us free dessert.”

One corner of Alec’s mouth twisted up in a half-smile, and Magnus congratulated himself on the small victory. “It’ll be our secret,” he whispered back, his eyes slowly fixing on a spot just over Magnus’s left shoulder. Magnus followed his gaze to where two young women sat close together in a booth, giggling in between taking bites of each other’s food.

“Their first date seems to be going pretty well,” Alec noted.

“I think those two lovebirds are an exception.” Magnus inclined his head at a young woman a few tables away. “Her date only just went to the restroom and she’s already got her phone out, swiping new faces on Tinder. And that one,” he went on, glancing toward a ginger-haired man talking animatedly to a nervous-looking brunette at the bar. “You can tell by the bartender’s barely controlled eye rolls that he’s in here every night using the same worn-out lines on first date after first date.”

Alec shook his head. “I’m so glad I never went through any of that.” He looked back at Magnus, the candlelight from their table dancing in his hazel eyes. “I barely even knew how to talk to _you_ , when you tried so hard to make it easy for me. I can’t imagine how I would have navigated any of … this.”

A tender feeling rose up in Magnus. He reached across the table and took Alec’s hand, sorting through the images racing through his own mind: Alexander, failing at small talk on date after date; Alexander, unhappy and alone. Or even worse, Alexander, maybe slowly falling in love with someone else … it was too painful even to consider.

“I’m glad of it too, my angel.” Magnus stroked the back of Alec’s hand with his thumb and earned a soft smile in return. And he was, eternally grateful for the twists and turns of fate that had brought this amazing young man into his life. But then, all too soon, they had to break apart as the server approached with their food.

“For the gentlemen,” she said, carefully placing a startlingly large plate of meat on the pristine white tablecloth, “the grass-fed Kobe porterhouse for two, medium rare, with _pommes frites_ and a side of boiled crawfish.” _Now_ Alec was smiling, and it made Magnus’s heart flutter with happiness. Food had always been a safe way through Alexander’s defenses.

 “So,” Magnus said eagerly as he picked up his knife and fork and studied the dishes on their table. “Where to begin?” His stomach rolled in anticipation of the food. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. Alec was already reaching, predictably, for the crawfish plate when he suddenly jerked his hand back, eyes widening in alarm.

“Alexander, what,” Magnus began, but just then his own head began to spin madly. Something was terribly wrong. All around them diners were slumping to the floor, tableware clattering out of their hands, drinks knocked across tables. Alec made as if he was trying to stand, but couldn’t; he slid sideways out of his chair as Magnus struggled to stay upright and reach for his magic. If Magnus could portal them back to the –

“Are you unwell, sir?” Someone in a black suit was looming over him, lips pulled back in a grimacing smile. The sommelier … the man’s eyes started to take on a greenish glow. Magnus felt a raw surge of anger. He fought to get to his feet but unconsciousness was already closing in on him, the commotion around him fading into the background. The last thing Magnus saw before he blacked out was Alec, his eyes closed, face stricken and pale against the blood-red carpet where he lay.

**Present**

“I know when you’re lying to me, big brother, even over Skype.” Isabelle combs her fingers through her long hair, twisting it into a loose braid; the casual gesture belying the tense undertone in her voice. “You can tell everybody else that you’re fine and let them believe it if they want. But don’t try to pull that crap on me.”

Alec allows himself a tiny smile, his mouth quirking at his sister’s vehemence. At least there’s one person still in his life who never lets him get away with anything.

“Okay, okay – I might have followed up on a few rumors on my own, here and there. But there really hasn’t been any information coming in since the announcement.“ He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “They’ve all given up. They all believe he’s dead.”

“I don’t believe it.” Isabelle’s mouth is set in a hard line. Even through the tiny phone screen he can sense the determination, the strength, coming out of her in waves.

Alec shakes his head. “I don’t want to believe it either. I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to accept it. But for now …” he trails off, staring off into the distance for a moment. “Anyway, I’m at the penthouse. I thought I could maybe, you know, maybe pack up a few things around here. Just for safekeeping. Just until he comes back.”

The penthouse wards are still up, and they’re still keyed to let Alec through without challenge. He’s been holding onto their existence as a ray of hope, even though every time he mentions it Catarina is adamant that it’s not a firm indicator that Magnus is still alive. Tris’s wards had stayed up after his death, after all. But Alec can’t separate the idea of Magnus’s magic as a thing independent from Magnus himself. In Alec’s mind, the magic is part of Magnus and if it still exists, then Magnus must, too.

Isabelle is quiet for a long moment, unmoving; so long that he thinks maybe he ought to tap the phone screen and make sure the call hasn’t frozen. But then her voice comes again, steady, soft. “That sounds like a good plan.” And then, after a breath or two more, “If you need me I can portal home. I just need a few minutes to pack.”

Alec can’t help the grin this time, although it has to fight its way through the lump at the back of his throat. Isabelle never travels light. A few minutes of packing for her will be three days, at least. “Come on now, Iz. You keep telling me how gorgeous Spain is, and I can see you’ve got a nice tan going there. Stay. Enjoy some time to yourself for once without mom and dad looking over your shoulder.”

She frowns at him, but he can see her posture relax just the tiniest bit. “Fine, but I mean it. If you need me you call me. I don’t care what -” A klaxon sounds, interrupting her, and she looks exasperated. “Gotta go. Sounds like injuries incoming. The damn _sirenas_ have been acting up again.”

“Go do your job, Shadowhunter,” he says without thinking. The memory of those words in Magnus’s mouth takes a second to hit. When it does it’s a self-delivered punch to the gut, more painful than he expects. He fights back a wave of loneliness as she blows him a kiss and disconnects the call.

**Three Months Ago**

The man blinked, clearing his vision as he tried to focus. He stood on a dusty brown hillside in a barren landscape looking out over the remains of a dead city. Flames rose from various points before him; the burned out shells of houses interspersed with cathedral-like towers that made skeletal silhouettes against the jagged mountains beyond. A dull orange sun struggled to break through the clouds overhead, casting everything in a sickly light of decay. More dust and ash blew through the alleyways. It swirled in eddies like a river tinged darkly from above. _Bones and blood._

The city looked familiar. He couldn’t remember why. He thought he might have seen it in a dream.

The harsh, sulfuric smell of the smoke made him feel dizzy.

No, he realized. It wasn’t the smoke making him feel dizzy. It was the power.

Power pulsed through the ground beneath his feet like a heartbeat. Power swirled in the air around him, brushing over his skin like a lover’s kiss. Power spoke to him like whispers inside his head. It showed him images from inside the dead city. It wanted him to go there. It drifted as a hot breeze over bones lying in the street, half-hidden by countless years of settled dust and ash. It wanted him to put the bones back together again and make them dance. It asked to be channeled and shaped by his hands; begged him to bring forth magic to fuel it. The power needed him to bring the city back to life.

He was tired, so tired. All he wanted to do was go to sleep. But the power wouldn’t let him, buzzing incessantly all around and through him. All he had to do was reach out and gather it to himself, then he could do what it asked, and it would let him rest. All he had to do was give in.

All he had to do was let himself burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo with the help of some exquisite friends letting me ramble on about this plot (seriously, is there any better outcome from online fandom, than to have great friends you can share ideas with? even halfway around the world!) I have run the outline through to the end, and I think this will finish by the close of this weekend. And, do it in 8 chapters instead of 10. Send good writing vibes my way! And thanks for your kudos and comments - they keep me going.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dozen questions whirl in his mind. He gives up and picks the simplest one.
> 
> “Why?”

**Present**

Alec runs a hand through his wet hair, watching the elevator buttons light up as he ascends floor by floor. He’d forgotten what it's like to have to go out to get food, especially inconvenient when it’s dark and cold and raining. Alec knows he’s been spoiled. Magnus would always magically summon takeout, or groceries so that Alec could cook for them. But Alec can’t do that. Nor can he call for delivery because Magnus isn’t around to open the wards to let anyone else upstairs. At least he’s given himself an hour’s break from what he told Izzy was going to be packing, but has instead turned into Alec wandering aimlessly about the penthouse, picking things up and putting them down, trying to keep the grief that simmers just under the surface of his thoughts at bay.

The elevator discharges him at the top floor and he feels the next level of wards reaching out, confirming his identity, embracing and welcoming him back. Alec stops just outside the door as the magic tingles across his skin, an unfamiliar sensation creeping in.

Someone is in Magnus’s penthouse.

Alec isn’t sure how he knows. Maybe it’s his familiarity with the wards. Maybe he’s just become so attuned to the magic that he can feel the minor disturbance of another presence. But he can sense another living being behind the door he’s about to open. It has to be someone the wards let through unchallenged, or someone strong enough to overpower them - and it doesn’t feel like Magnus at all.

Alec certainly doesn’t know everyone Magnus has ever permitted to enter his home unrestricted. Catarina, probably, since she came and went with impunity when Alec was cursed. Maybe Raphael or Luke … but why would any of them be here now? He can’t take any chances. Bow in hand, senses on high alert, he slowly reaches for the door handle.

Just as he touches it, the door abruptly swings open. He leaps backward, the first arrow already out of the quiver, then freezes in surprise.

Tessa peers out at him from the doorway, Catarina waving from over her shoulder.

“We’ve been expecting you.”

*****

Alec stares open mouthed at Tessa where she stands, calm as the center of a hurricane while the blood rushes madly in his ears. His heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest and he’s trembling all over. Catarina, next to him on the couch, presses his hand gently between her own. Her magic, familiar and warm, leeches into his skin. His body remembers her healing touch like it remembers Magnus’s, so he relaxes little by little. As his racing heart slows, he can finally respond to what Tessa just said.

 “Magnus isn’t dead?”

Tessa nods, and Alec’s jaw tightens. As he calms down the initial burst of shock is replaced by anger. “ _You_ declared him dead. You stopped the search!” Catarina presses his hand more firmly, trying to soothe him but he jerks away from her grasp. He takes a deep breath, makes an effort to keep his voice low. “And you let me – you –“

Tessa meets his angry stare, her grey eyes unguarded but unrepentant. “We had to, Alec. I’m so sorry for your suffering, I wish I could have done something for your pain. But it had to be this way.”

“Where is he?”

Tessa holds up her hands, palms tilted up toward the ceiling; it is such a placating gesture, such a Magnus-like thing to do, that for a second Alec wonders which of them learned it from the other. “We hoped that by making an official announcement declaring our belief that Magnus was dead, whoever had taken Magnus would let their guard down. And indeed they did. Finally we made the right connections; finally we got a break and captured the demon that took Magnus. It took some doing, but eventually, before it died, it told us what we needed to know.”

Alec stands, wrapping his arms around himself. He doesn’t want to talk, doesn’t want to hear excuses. He just wants to go to wherever Magnus is and _get him back_. He speaks again, slowly, enunciating each word with sharp clarity. “Where. Is. He?”

Catarina stands too, and walks to Tessa’s side. The two warlocks exchange glances before Tessa speaks. “The Greater Demon, Asmodeus, has taken Magnus to the demonic realm of Edom.” Catarina looks on sympathetically as concern and confusion flash across Alec’s face in turn.

A dozen questions whirl in his mind. He gives up and picks the simplest one.

“Why?”

“Edom is a dying realm,” Tessa explains. “In order to function, demons and the space they inhabit require regular infusions of power and magic. The old legends of demons stealing souls, making bargains and then taking people to Hell – many are based on the Edomites taking mortal souls and harvesting their life energies to feed themselves and their world. Even Asmodeus himself draws a significant amount of power from the realm he is tied to. Several centuries ago, the warlocks were able to cut Edom off from our dimension, ending their ability to cross over and harvest souls from this world. The realm and the demons within have been essentially starving for all this time.”

Alec is starting to feel less calm. “What does he want with Magnus?”

“An immortal life carries significantly more energy with it than a mortal one. The death of an immortal and the harvest of an immortal soul can power a demonic realm for a much longer period of time than multiple mortals can. It’s less work for greater return.”

“But the demon that took him didn’t want to kill Magnus,” Alec says. “It told Magnus he was wanted alive.”

“That’s correct. He won’t be able to take Magnus’s immortal soul for a while. Edom has been isolated for a very long time. The entire world is almost on its last gasp before it reaches a tipping point and can’t be brought back. Before a soul can be burned up to support it, the realm essentially has to be revived, the demons restored and recharged. Edom must be brought back to life, if you will.”

Catarina nods. “Edom’s demon population has gone dormant through the lack of souls to feed on over centuries of isolation. From what our intelligence was able to gather, the majority of them have wasted to skeletons, some even just to dust. But their demonic essence can still be re-assembled with the right magic. The demons simply need to be awakened; Asmodeus needs foot soldiers to harvest souls from this world and keep the power supply steady. To manage the revival of Edom successfully, he needs a connected source – a conduit, if you will – that can control and focus magic back into the realm to recharge it; in other words, a warlock.”

Alec frowns; he is struggling to keep up and make sense of it all. He holds up his hand. “Wait,” he says. “Just wait a minute. Let me see if I understand this. Magnus has been kidnapped by a Greater Demon and taken to another dimension in order to bring demons out of hibernation and kick start a dying demonic world?”

Catarina raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve got it.”

Alec’s mind reels. It’s a lot to take in all at once. But the tiny glimmering strand of hope that he’s been keeping alive all these months has swelled to a blazing lifeline, just waiting for him to grab on to it. Magnus is alive. But he’s still in mortal danger. They haven’t got any time to waste. He needs a plan, fast.

Tessa steps closer, looking up at Alec in earnest. “We can get him back, Alec. It will take some effort, and we’re going to need a lot of help. But we can get him back.”

He nods, quelling his churning emotions, letting his Shadowhunter training take over. He trusts Catarina already; Magnus trusts Tessa, so Alec will too. “Tell me what to do.”

Catarina waves her hand and a portal appears before them. “We’re going to the Spiral Labyrinth,” she says. “But we must stop at the Institute along the way.”

“Why?” Alec frowns.

Catarina grins at him. “For backup, of course.”

*****

Alec doesn’t know why he expected the Spiral Labyrinth to be a dusty old place full of crystal balls and potion bottles. Maybe it’s because of the Harry Potter movies Magnus keeps making him watch. But to his surprise the warlock headquarters is bright and modern-looking. As he follows Catarina, Tessa, a concerned but willing Jace, and a very excited Clary into a well-lit command center, Alec realizes the Labyrinth scholars have even better tech than the Institute. It makes him a little jealous.

Catarina stops and waves her hand. The wall in front of them becomes a giant projection screen displaying a detailed map of what looks like a walled fortress. “This is a 3-D rendering of what we know from a long history of demon interrogations, about the Palace of the Asmodei in Edom.” Catarina moves her hand again and the screen zooms inward, stopping on an intricate circular pattern in the geographic center of the complex. “This is the seal between our dimension and Edom, located somewhere in the inner sanctum. It’s the most direct and stable way Asmodeus and his demons can travel easily between both places. Without this passage, the only way to travel between is to create a dimensional portal, or rift - a physical tear in the space and time between dimensions. That takes an enormous single shot of power and is only a temporary opening. The warlocks managed to destroy the seal in the past, but it looks he’s been able to restore it somehow. To cut off access between our dimension and Edom this seal has to be destroyed again.”

“How?” Alec barely lets her pause to take a breath.

Tessa looks at Jace and Clary. “That’s where you come in.”

Jace frowns. “I don’t know if any of our weapons can-“

Clary’s face lights up as she interrupts him. “No, Jace – we _are_ the weapons.” She looks at Alec, then back to Tessa. “Angelic power can destroy Demonic constructs, yes?”

“Yes,” Tessa confirms. “And since you and Jace have angelic blood from Valentine's experiments, if one of you can get some of your blood on the seal, it should collapse. If we’re lucky it might even take a good portion of the realm with it.”

“Permanently?” Clary looks hopeful.

Catarina presses her lips together as the two warlocks exchange a glance. “We don’t know. But it should certainly buy us at least a few more centuries of time to figure out what to do if it comes back a third time.”

“If there’s one seal, there could be others leading into other worlds,” Jace says, looking at Alec thoughtfully. “We know other dimensions exist. If we find more than one, how many can we destroy?”

Tessa shakes her head. “It’s a good thought, but you’ll barely have time to destroy this one. Our world is where the Edomites and Asmodei get the most souls and the most power, and therefore the most at risk.”

Catarina turns to Alec. “Magnus has been gone for long enough to have raised quite a number of demons by now.  You’ll probably have to fight your way through at least a few of them to get into the sanctum. We will summon Asmodeus here to the Labyrinth and try to contain him long enough for you to get in and out. But it will take every warlock we can muster to drag a Greater Demon here against his will, and we can’t predict how long we will be able to keep him occupied. He will sense it the instant an angelic presence enters Edom and he will not be pleased. But you have a much better chance of getting to Magnus without Asmodeus standing in your way.”

Tessa snaps her fingers and a door slides open in the wall behind them. “Come. The pentagram for the summoning should be almost finished. As soon as it’s ready, we can create the portal that will send you through. We can’t send you directly into the sanctum, it’s too protected, but I have some maps you can look at to plan your best route of attack.”

Alec clenches and unclenches his fists, anxious to get going. “We’ll bring Magnus back, no matter how long it takes.”

Tessa meets his eyes and smiles for the first time since their arrival. “The warlocks will buy you as much time as we can. Make every second count.”

*****

He floats. He dreams. He sees nothing; he feels everything.

The power runs through him, warms his bones. Demons rise and walk and fly, driven by the engine of his thoughts. Dust still blows in the streets but the breeze is no longer random. It flows with a direction, a purpose. All around him a world comes back to life. Time passes endlessly; he has been here forever. He will be here forever.

Until.

A new sound penetrates the thick hum of power. A brief memory is triggered: _Metal on stone._ He listens intently. More sounds come: a distant shout, a faraway scream, a flurry of scratching noises. But everything outside the hum quickly fades out, as it always does. He’s left again with only the familiar thrumming that’s been his constant companion for what feels like his whole existence. He feels sad. It was nice to have something different to hear for a bit.

But then at once, the hum vanishes. It is simply gone. A suffocating silence descends. He lies in the void of blackness with his heart pounding, tense. After hearing and feeling nothing but power surging around him for so long, the lack of sensation is startling.

He waits, unsure of what to expect. Will the power return? Will he lose consciousness? Will he start to remember something?

_Magnus!_

His body jerks as he hears a familiar voice calling his … his name; that’s his name. Magnus. He is Magnus Bane. The voice is Clary Fairchild’s. _Biscuit,_ he thinks.  That’s what he calls her. If Clary is nearby then the annoying Jace Herondale won’t be far behind, and if Jace is here that means –

_Alexander._

Magnus starts to struggle. He strains with all his strength, back arching, legs kicking and arms pulling. It’s no good. He can’t get free from whatever binds him in the darkness. _Magic?_ He wriggles his fingers but feels nothing spark. Something is blocking him. Or maybe something has depleted his power. He remembers the constant feeling of being drained. But it’s hard to focus as hundreds of years’ worth of memories come flooding into his empty brain at once. He tries desperately to fight through them, to exist wholly in the present. His mind is overwhelmed.

"Here, over here!” Jace calls. Magnus tries to shout but he can’t make any sound. Jace sounds close. Do they know he’s here? Can they see him? It’s so dark.

“More demons are coming. Hurry.” Alec, very near. Calm on the surface, worry simmering in the undertone of his speech.

“If I can just... There.” A scraping sound, a bright flash. Magnus wants desperately to see something; he still can’t move.

Small hands on his shoulders, gently shaking him. “Oh my god, Magnus? Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

_Clary._

Larger hands are touching his arms, his legs, checking for injuries; calloused palms, broad. Familiar.

_Alec._

“Oh, he can hear you. The whole godforsaken _dimension_ can hear you.”

_Asmodeus._

Something snaps in his chest, electric and bright, like a switch flipping on.

Magnus opens his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unbeta'd, but a million thanks to maristu for helping me focus and letting me run ideas through her wise counsel, at all hours of the day and night. She makes things better than they were before.
> 
> Remember there is a prequel to this fic, "for thou art with me" which I'd be quite pleased if you also read, and let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You slaughtered quite a lot of my children out there, Shadowhunter, for someone who didn’t come to fight.”
> 
> “You took something that doesn’t belong to you. We came to get it back.”

Magnus blinks rapidly, breathes deeply, trying to push the fog from his mind. He vaguely registers being pulled to his feet, a lot of shouting, several pulses of magic striking near and around where he stands. But his newly restored consciousness is slippery. It’s an effort just to keep his weakened legs under him, even with a strong hand supporting his arm.

His eyes clear as he takes in the scene before him: Clary and Jace float a few feet above the ground, on either side of Asmodeus, wrapped in what look like cocoons of sticky black silk. Alec stands just in front of Magnus, seraph blade blazing, a living shield between Magnus and the Demon.

“Tsk, little angels, don’t struggle.” Asmodeus says to Clary and Jace, who are kicking and struggling against their bonds. “It was adorable of you to think you could attack me in my own home, but we can’t have you getting your precious blood on my seal.”

“Let us take Magnus peaceably and we’ll go,” Alec says. “We didn’t come to fight.”

“You slaughtered quite a lot of my children out there, Shadowhunter, for someone who didn’t come to fight.”

“You took something that doesn’t belong to you. We came to get it back.”

“Blasphemer!” Asmodeus merely moves the tip of his index finger and Alec is thrown across the room, hitting hard against the far wall. As the dazed Shadowhunter catches his breath, Asmodeus strolls over to stand beside Magnus. Magnus wants to move away as the Demon approaches but he can’t. He feels like a fly trapped in amber. His limbs don’t want to respond to the commands from his brain. Magnus can feel that his body is repairing itself, knitting back together neuromuscular connections ravaged by months of channeling the magical energies of Edom. But the process is slow. He can’t lift a finger yet to help Alec, Jace, Clary – or himself.

“Magnus belongs to no one _but_ me.” He runs a long, clawed finger down Magnus’s cheek, leaving a tiny trail of blood behind. Magnus doesn’t flinch, can’t flinch. “Ever the strongest of my children. You are the only one worthy to serve me in this. Do you think my son can escape the destiny I made for him?”

“Your _son?_ ” Magnus would flinch, if he could, at the sharp tone in Alec’s voice. Of all the ways Magnus has pictured the topic of his demonic parentage possibly coming up, he never imagined it would go like this. But it’s easy enough to see, as they stand side by side, both tall and lean with sharp, angular features. But mostly, Magnus’s warlock mark is a dead giveaway to anyone who has ever looked into his father’s slit-pupiled, green-gold eyes.

Although, since most people who do that don’t live long enough afterward to tell about it, the issue usually doesn’t come up.

“Of course, my _son_.” The Demon’s tone is mocking. “Only a creature with the blood of Edom in its veins could perform this function and survive.” Asmodeus shakes his head. “What do they teach you at that useless academy, these days.”

“So even a Greater Demon can sire a warlock?” Clary says to Jace. Considering what Iris almost did to her, Clary’s disgusted expression only hurts Magnus’s feelings a tiny bit. He knows she’s probably only reliving what happened; it isn’t something he should take personally.

Asmodeus responds, with undisguised pride. “Of course! I have created many warlock offspring over the centuries. A few have been of use, but unfortunately most of them have been … disappointing. My ungrateful wretch of a daughter Ellende for example. I tried to bring her instead, but. You obviously saw how _that_ worked out.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Alec says. While the Demon has been talking, Alec has been moving slowly, carefully, toward Magnus. “We are Magnus’s family, not you.” Magnus’s heart skips a beat at the words.

“You will release Magnus to us. Now.”

Asmodeus snorts. “I did not spend all those centuries brooding useless mortal cows to create the perfect blooded conduit, only to have a _Nephilim_ -” looking at Alec he spits the word, like a curse - “try to ruin _everything_.” Asmodeus’s face twists into a cold sneer; his gaze boring into the tall Shadowhunter. “I should have done a better job of killing you when I had the chance.”

Alec drops to his knees with a gasp, one hand flying to his chest. His breathing turns ragged and his face grows pale. It is achingly familiar, but Magnus, still struggling to wake up fully, can’t quite remember why. Jace shouts Alec’s name, kicks and struggles against his bonds, but to no avail.

“The curse,” Alec chokes out. “It was you.”

“That’s how you fixed the seal.” Clary’s eyes widen with sudden understanding. “You used the life force you drained out of Alec and Magnus to rebuild the passage between worlds.”

Asmodeus laughs, a sound like breaking glass. “Clever mouse. But your squeaky little voice is grating and tiresome. I don’t need you two around to keep Magnus at my bidding. Just the one is enough.” He snaps his fingers. Jace and Clary vanish, winked out in an instant like they were never there to begin with.

“What have you done to them?” Alec cries hoarsely.

“Only sent them back where they came from,” Asmodeus sneers. “I don’t need an all-out war with the pesky Clave over their little angelic experiments. Just the warlocks and you three have been inconvenient enough already. The warlocks won’t get the chance try again – I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But the Clave like to give themselves airs, raising Angels and other nonsense. Their overblown dramatics annoy me. It isn’t worth the trouble it would cause if I killed them.”

Alec collapses to the floor with a sharp cry, curling in on himself in pain. Asmodeus smiles and circles toward Alec slowly, stalking like a cat after wounded prey while Magnus looks on, unmoving and helpless. “Drawing out your suffering for my own amusement was an indulgence I now regret. Killing you quickly, taking all of your soul in one shot would have been the smarter way to go.” Asmodeus gestures to Magnus. “It never occurred to me that my ridiculous child would try to sacrifice himself for you by taking on your curse. It was an unexpected benefit, since his actions helped restore the seal more quickly. But so many of my efforts to restore the glory of Edom have been wasted these past few centuries, since rather than agree to work on my behalf, my most powerful offspring insisted on trying to be more _human_.” The Demon smiles, revealing layered rows of glittering teeth, sharp as razor wire. “Luckily he has centuries of time ahead in Edom, during which we can reverse this poorly-chosen course of action. As long as I keep you as my prisoner, he won’t even try to fight me. In fact, let’s start now, shall we? A little parental discipline is certainly in order.”

A thick black leather whip appears in the Demon’s hand and immediately bursts into flame. At a smooth flick of his wrist, the jet of fire snakes toward Magnus’s chest. Magnus stands frozen as the heat lashes across him. The pain comes a second later, white-hot and burning as the Demon’s arm draws back for a second strike. Magnus stares as a streak of red blossoms across his skin, too shocked to cry out.

Alec’s lips are moving, but Magnus can’t hear anything over the roar of pain in his mind. _Go. Run._ The shapes Alec’s mouth is making turn into words that flicker through his brain, but Magnus can only stand watching as the flaming whip descends a second time. As his skin opens further under the lash, the pain comes more quickly, twice as intense. This time the pain finally clears away the lingering fog that has drained Magnus of his strength. This time, Magnus hears Alec’s scream.

The sound cuts through Magnus’s fatigue like a knife, replacing it with an astonishing fury. His own pain is secondary. Alec is crying out for him. Alec is in danger.

No power in any dimension could keep Magnus from responding to Alec's call.

His fingers extend, drawing in power. His broken skin knits itself back together seamlessly. Moving with preternatural speed, Magnus lashes out an icy blue coil of magic that ensnares the whip before it can descend again. Asmodeus tugs and pulls but Magnus’s grip holds.

The Demon snarls and flings the whip aside. Jagged spears of rock are torn free from the walls and flung toward Magnus, a phalanx of almost certain death. But they never reach him; Magnus only blinks and they crumble in midair, falling in a heap of pebbles and dust.

Asmodeus pauses, a look of surprise flashing briefly across his taut face. The air around Asmodeus starts to shimmer, but Magnus is faster. The ground erupts at the Demon’s feet. Thorny vines wind their way up his legs, trap his arms against his body. As the Demon struggles Magnus goes to Alec and kneels at his side.

“Magnus,” Alec gasps, as the warlock places a hand on his shoulder. “Are you OK?”

Magnus very nearly laughs. There is so much life force coursing through him, he could probably power a small galaxy. But Alexander doesn’t know it, the dear boy. He still thinks Magnus is the frail, exhausted shell he’s been trying to rescue.

“I’m fine,” Magnus reassures him. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

“Magnus, you’ve been stuck here for months. You’re using too much magic. Take my strength before you drain yourself.”

Alec extends his hand but Magnus doesn’t reach for it. He shakes his head. “Magic works differently here. I won’t be able to control how much I take. It could kill you.”

Alec grabs Magnus’s hand and presses it between his own. “If we don’t destroy that seal, we’re probably dead anyway.”

Magnus smiles and lets his newly restored glamour fall. With his cat eyes blazing and flickering shadows crossing his sharp features, there is a look of Asmodeus about him that he sees reflected in Alec’s wide eyes. The glimpse is chilling, enthralling. Magnus blinks again and tears himself away from the vision. “I don’t need your strength, my love.” He rises, pulling Alec to his feet. With a gentle tug he draws Alec closer, then reaches up to touch the side of Alec’s face.

“What –“ Alec’s words cut off as a sudden glow surrounds his body. Startled, he looks down as his injuries begin to heal rapidly. Bruises fade, wounds close. Dried blood flakes away; even a tear in the sleeve of his jacket is repairing itself. He looks at Magnus, astonished. “How are you doing this?”

“It seems like a no-brainer, doesn’t it? Breed some half-blooded children, use them to infuse regular bursts of power into the realm. Like growing your own food. Self-sustaining, very clever. But there is one glaring flaw that my father overlooked in his design.” Magnus’s eyes move to Asmodeus. “The connection between myself and Edom doesn’t just go one-way.”

Magnus didn’t know it was possible for a Greater Demon to grow pale, but what little color there was in Asmodeus’s face seems to drain away. “No! It isn’t true!”

“Oh, but it is.” Magnus lets go of Alec and spins in a lazy circle, arms outstretched, palms up. “You fed this realm with my energy; now Edom itself is my strength. I brought this entire world back to life and now it powers me in return. My wish is Edom’s command, father. You’re not in charge here anymore.”

Asmodeus curses and struggles but his bonds hold. Alec stands very still, his expression blank as he takes in what Magnus has said.

Magnus is heady with the rush of power. His skin tingles with magic. It burns in his blood. There are demons gathering outside the chamber, horrific creatures created from the energies Magnus harnessed and suffused into their decaying bones. Demons that with one thought, one tiny firing synapse in his mind, have all been instantly bound to his will.

A sudden vision stretches out before him: his world at peace, enforced with the demon soldiers under his command. Shadowhunters, Downworlders, Mundanes living in harmony under Magnus’s benevolent guidance. No more killing. No more fear! Magnus could control everything, change everything. With this much power he can bend both dimensions to his will. He can make everyone love and obey him, even those who hate him now.

Slowly pacing the room, hands clasped behind his back, Magnus turns the thoughts over in his mind, planning, strategizing. The demons will need to be fed souls occasionally, but surely that can be arranged somehow. Livestock animals may suffice for the interim. And criminals will always arise, even in peaceable kingdoms. The death penalty would be swift justice for murderers or other harmful citizens. Surely a few sacrifices would justify the outcome: for the vast majority of the earth hunger will end, poverty will end. Violence will end. Magnus can take care of everyone – forever. And no one could stand in his way.

He looks up, warm with excitement. Alec is watching him closely, his eyes thoughtful but unguarded.

“Magnus, there are demons waking up everywhere here. Demons that can cross into our world and hurt people. Tell me how to destroy the seal.”

Asmodeus laughs; a high, bitter sound. “Most single-minded of Nephilim. Your friends are gone! How do you propose to succeed without them? The only way to permanently close the dimensional seal is with pure angelic blood. Your blood is too diluted, too many generations passed since that first sip from the Mortal Cup. Your mission has failed.”

Alec raises his chin, defiantly, and at the gesture something warm stirs in Magnus’s chest. Throughout history brave men and immortals alike have quailed before Asmodeus, King of the Nine Hells. But Alexander looks into the Demon’s cat-eyes, at his barbed-wire crown and inhumanly white skin, without flinching.

Alec steps closer to Magnus, weapon raised and at the ready. Protective as always, even though Magnus could erase every being in this world and their own with the flicker of a thought. Even though Alec is the one who needs protecting, here.

Magnus stares appraisingly at Alexander, whose grip is so tight that his knuckles are turning white around the hilt of a seraph blade still stained with demon ichor. Alexander, who says he wants nothing more than to wake up every morning for the rest of his life with his arms around Magnus. To learn to mix a martini just the way Magnus likes it, and bring it to the warlock when he’s gotten buried in his work and loses track of time. To have a simple life full of simple joys.

Alexander, who came to him by choice and with sacrifice; who loves Magnus of his own free will.

The free will and choice that Magnus’s blossoming dream of domination for the greater good will take away from everyone else.

Alexander, who should rule beside him, but who Magnus knows, deep down, will refuse if the price exacted is so high.

Magnus draws a deep breath and the seductive vision of supreme rule drops away. The power lies quietly waiting for his next command. His eyes fall on something at his feet. He bends down to pick it up, then strides toward his father.

The thorny vines creak as they pull Asmodeus forward to meet him. As their trajectories converge in the center of the chamber, Asmodeus stares fixedly at Magnus, unbowed, unblinking.

Magnus cocks his head, unphased by the Demon’s close scrutiny. “You know, I’ve always heard that with advancing age comes memory loss. I didn’t think it applied to your kind as well, but maybe your days are more numbered than I thought. You’ve been around far too long for my liking, at least.” Magnus leans closer, slowly raising his hand. In his grasp is one of Alec’s spent arrows. The runed shaft is unbroken, the point gleams razor sharp.

“Father dear,” he croons softly, “once-bright star. Have you forgotten the life you had before all this?”

Asmodeus’s face contorts with shock as Magnus slashes the broadhead across his throat. Blood pours from the wound, falling bright as rose petals into the carved edge of the seal at their feet.

The pure blood of a Prince of Hell - a fallen Angel.

The ground trembles when the first drop hits. Pebbles skitter across the stone floor and then suddenly the whole thing convulses with a giant heave. Hordes of demons outside the chamber scream with one voice of unfettered, soulless despair.

Magnus spins toward Alec, tossing the bloodied arrow aside. Alec calls out, staggering toward him, but whatever he says is lost in the violence of the seal’s demise. The walls look like they’re melting. Everything around them is dissolving, like the sidewalk chalk art he’s seen mundanes draw, blurred and washed away when rain finally comes.

Magnus stretches out his hand, willing Edom’s power to serve him one last time. The air before him rips apart like wet paper just as Alec reaches him. Light spills out of the dimensional portal’s fissure, fierce and blinding. Magnus can’t see inside or through as the opening widens. He thinks desperately of home, of his bedroom in Brooklyn, and Alec there. “Go!” he shouts, and shoves Alec toward the yawning rift.

“Not without you!” Alec grips Magnus’s hand tightly. For a second Magnus hesitates, suddenly wanting to stay behind – to make sure that this time, the job of banishing his father from Alec’s vulnerable world is permanent.

But Alexander has come all this way for him. Magnus knows in his heart the stubborn Shadowhunter will never leave him behind.

The moment of hesitation passes. Together they leap forward. Magnus feels the power of Edom still trapped within him stretch and stretch like an elastic band. As the portal whirls him out of the demon dimension the band finally snaps. He tumbles off into the blazing light, blinded and numb, not even able to feel Alec’s hand in his. Asmodeus’s final scream of rage cuts off sharply as the connection collapses behind Magnus and he falls away into the space between.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew ! Bless you for reading along this far, and for all your support and encouragement.  
> One more chapter, an epilogue of sorts, should be up within the next couple of days.  
> Feedback is the lifeblood of writers.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want to talk about it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for coming along on this ride, lovelies.  
> Grateful author hugs to each and every one of you.  
> Especially maristu for the cheerleading and support. Go look at her fic. It's wonderful.

Alec loses his breath for an instant as he slams into something solid, unyielding. His eyes take a moment to adjust to the not-quite-darkness of a New York City night. He is on the floor of Magnus’s bedroom, Magnus sprawled face down a few feet away. Alec scrambles to him and gently rolls him over, checks for breathing, finds a pulse. As Magnus’s eyelids flutter open the slit pupils in his gold irises expand in the dim light.

“Magnus,” Alec gasps. Relieved, he pulls Magnus across his lap and tight against his chest. “Magnus.”

Groaning softly, Magnus shifts in Alec’s arms. “I’ve definitely got to work on the landings.”

Alec half laughs, half sobs with gratitude as he gathers the exhausted warlock as close as he can.

“Magnus,” Alec says again, trembling uncontrollably as three endless months’ worth of grief, heartbreak and frustration drain away. He knows by the way Magnus’s brow wrinkles with concern that Magnus feels him shivering too. Magnus reaches for him, one hand sliding up into Alec’s hair to pull him down so he can press his face into Alec’s neck. Alec tries to breathe slowly, deeply. His heart is pounding so hard he thinks it might leap out of his chest.

“I’m right here,” Magnus whispers, stroking the back of his neck. “I’m here. It’s over.”

“I never stopped looking. They said you were dead but I never, _ever_ stopped looking for you.”

Magnus stills and Alec pulls back, feeling the physical change like a sudden blow. Magnus looks stricken, his body tense.

“Dead?” he repeats, and a slow awareness dawns for Alec. Magnus doesn’t know how long he was gone.

“You – you were missing for months. We looked everywhere. Tessa said –“

“Months," Magnus repeats, his eyes widening. Then - "Tessa Gray?” Magnus seems to relax a little at her name.

Alec nods encouragingly. “And the warlocks at the Labyrinth, they thought if you were declared dead and the search was officially called off, then …”

“Ah yes,” Magnus says thoughtfully. “Then my abducter might grow careless. A wise move.” He pauses for a few seconds before smiling gently up at Alec. “I would have done the same.”

Alec only then realizes he’s been holding his breath, as he expels it in a thankful sigh. But the mention of Tessa reminds him that there are people waiting for them. Finding his phone, he sends a quick text to Isabelle, Jace and Catarina letting them know that the mission was a success and they are back safely home. Relieved replies pop up within a few seconds; Catarina especially wants to come check on Magnus. Alec reassures her that everything is fine (he hopes), Magnus is only exhausted and that they’re going to rest. _See you in the morning_ , he types, then sets his phone to auto-response and puts it away before she can argue.

 Magnus watches him, then says, “We should probably get off the floor now, dear. It certainly feels like I haven’t slept in a proper bed for - how long did you say it was?”

“Just over three months.” Alec rises slowly, helping Magnus up. The warlock is still a little shaky at first, but quickly becomes steady on his feet. He clasps Alec’s forearm tightly.

“I’m sorry, Alexander. I can only imagine what you went through over all that time. It must have been awful for you.”

Alec shrugs it off as he helps Magnus toward the bed. “I had family and friends to support me. I’m sure it wasn’t nearly as awful for me as it was for you.”

“I wasn’t really aware of time passing. Not in the normal sense. I can’t remember much, there was mostly a continual sense of … floating. Existing in the moment.” He grins. “I should try to hold onto that feeling. It’s probably the closest I’ll ever come to achieving a true state of zen.”

“Well, okay, that zen thing sounds almost - good? Whatever it is.”

Magnus laughs softly. “Never change, my darling.”

They sit down on the edge of the bed, settling on the soft mattress. Magnus sighs gratefully and leans into Alec’s shoulder. After a moment, Alec asks, “Do you think it really worked? Have we sealed Edom off forever?”

Magnus shakes his head. “I think we gave my father a big headache that’s going to take him a very long time to sort out. But we can’t underestimate his power. Asmodeus will likely be back, somehow, someday.”

Alec chews his lip thoughtfully. “Then we’ll just have to make sure we have a plan ready for when that day comes.” Magnus squeezes his hand, and Alec squeezes back. “How are you feeling now? Any better yet?”

Magnus nods. “I can feel my strength starting to come back. Nothing a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast can’t cure.” But he’s staring off into space as he finishes speaking, and pulls his hand away. Alec tilts his head, concerned.

“Something’s not OK, though. Do you want to talk about it?”

Magnus doesn’t answer right away. Alec waits patiently, resting his hand on Magnus’s thigh, silently supportive until Magnus finally replies.

“Being linked in like that to Edom itself, to Asmodeus’s world. The power, the magic, it … it started to change me. The demon side of me was getting stronger. Louder.” Magnus looks down at his hands, twists the rings on his fingers. “I had a vision. Just before I destroyed the seal. A vision of myself ruling over both of our worlds, all powerful. Unstoppable. I saw myself doing wonderful things, and – and terrible things.” Magnus’s eyes flicker for a moment, golden and unreadable. “I almost gave in to it.”

Shadows from the dim light in the bedroom make Magnus’s face look strangely unfamiliar. Worry is written there, uncertainty touched with shame. Some deep instinct makes Alec reach out to smooth the strands of dark hair away from Magnus’s forehead. It changes the shadows; Magnus's face softens as he leans into the touch. It brings a warm feeling to Alec’s chest.

“But you didn’t.”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, I didn’t.”

“What made you stop?”

Magnus finally looks at him, his eyes luminous, honest.

“You.”

Alec waits, says nothing, as Magnus fumbles for more words.

“The - the things I was seeing seemed wonderful on the surface. But underneath they were dark, violent, ugly things. Edom twisted my mind, tried to make me believe that the good would outweigh the bad. There would be no one, save maybe the Angels themselves, strong enough to stop me. I could take whatever I wanted, do whatever I wanted … but what I wanted more than any of that, the only thing I really truly wanted … was to be with you. So I envisioned you ruling beside me. But when I saw some of the terrible things we would have to do in the name of that rule, to force people to bend to our - no, no, to Edom's - will, I couldn’t picture you agreeing to any of them. When I looked at you, when I asked myself what you would do - I knew you would never choose that path.” Magnus swallowed. “You would stop loving me long before you would go along with what I would have become.”

Alec cups Magnus’s face. The curve of his cheekbones fit perfectly into the hollow of Alec’s palms, as though they were crafted by a divine sculptor to fit seamlessly together. “Magnus, loving you isn’t a _choice_. It’s not something I can just decide not to do any more. I know maybe it seems like that because of – of how I first acted when this all started between us. But sweetheart, if you cut me open and pulled out what makes me who I am, the thing at the center of everything is how I feel about you. Nothing could ever take that away from me. You pushed away that temptation because you’re _you_ , not because of me. Edom couldn’t change you no matter how hard Asmodeus might try. The thing that makes you who _you_ are, deep down in your heart - that core is unshakeable. With or without me in the picture, you will always be the same, beautiful, glorious Magnus Bane.”

Magnus’s smile is blissfully warm. It reminds Alec of a cat curled up in a patch of sunlight.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he breathes, and then his lips are on Alec’s, possessive, claiming. Alec returns the kiss fiercely for a few moments until they pull apart and embrace, arms tight around each other, neither wanting to be the one to let go.

Magnus has a seemingly never ending supply of words to describe the various things he drinks, although try as he might, Alec has never really been able to appreciate the difference between a smoky wine and an oaky wine. But when Magnus goes off on a descriptive ode to alcohol Alec just thinks about which of the words sound most like he thinks Magnus tastes and smells. Salt and honey, leather and smoke, and more things he hasn’t learned the words for yet. Alec buries his face in Magnus’s hair, breathes in the familiar scent and the first word that springs to his mind is: _home_. He pulls back and kisses Magnus again, overwhelmed with affection and love.

Magnus slips a finger into the waistband of Alec’s jeans, strokes the soft skin of his hipbone. It tickles. Alec laughs softly and suddenly Magnus is kissing his teeth; then Magnus laughs too, pressing their foreheads together as natural as breathing until Alec pulls him down onto the bed.

They lay side by side for a long time, curling protectively around each other, whispering and softly touching. Clothes come off slowly, lazily, almost an afterthought. Alec can’t stop looking at Magnus’s skin, gilt-edged and gleaming from the moonlight spilling through the window. Magnus can’t stop stroking his fingers along Alec’s temple, twisting stray curls between his fingertips.

When sweet kisses start to turn deeper, more insistent, Magnus rolls onto his back and pulls Alec across his chest. Magnus’s hands are warm as they slide up to and across Alec’s broad shoulders, then down the long sweep of his back. He arches up to meet Alec’s mouth with his own. Magnus breathes in sharply as Alec’s tongue flickers out, tasting his lips.

“Seems like you’ve got most of your strength back,” Alec murmurs, pulling away to drop gentle bites along the side of Magnus’s jaw.

“I’m feeling significantly better.” Magnus clamps his thighs tightly around Alec’s waist, rocking their hips together. “Something you want to do about it?” His hand snakes between them, under Alec’s shirt, teasing across Alec’s ribs in a downward arc.

“Oh yes.” Alec catches Magnus’s wandering hand by the wrist, presses it into the pillow beside his head. His lips brush against Magnus’s ear. “I’m going to give you the greatest blow job of your immortal life.”

“You’re so _hot_ when you’re decisive.” Magnus arches beneath him and Alec groans softly at the swelling, twisting pleasure coiling around his spine. He presses Magnus back down into the mattress, kissing his way slowly down Magnus’s body. They have three months of separation to make up for. Alec plans to make every second count.


End file.
